


under the table

by twofoldAxiom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Background Relationships, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Chucklevoodoos, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Facials, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Partial Mind Control, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/pseuds/twofoldAxiom
Summary: You sigh. All this talk of heretics got you all worked up. You're not letting a literal grub get under your skin, no, you're just a little tense.Thankfully, you knowjustthe little heretic to fix that for you. Sometimes you wonder what you'd do without your favorite little candyslut taking such good care of you. He's a new hire, but he's certainly taken to the job perfectly; you'd be in a fouler mood without him, and nobody wants that.You push your seat a little away from your desk and reach down, feeling around for nubby little horns and curly hair.
Relationships: Grand Highblood/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	under the table

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theyoungphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyoungphoenix/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Troll Capitalist Way of Doing Business](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121424) by [ladysekhmetka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysekhmetka/pseuds/ladysekhmetka). 



> I'd promised this to a friend sometime in May. How time flies! But thankfully I eventually got it done.
> 
> Sort-of inspired by "Spirit of Capitalism", the old Secretary Sollux stuff on tumblr, and Ladysekhmetka's take on sexy office trolls.
> 
> As usual, if I missed a tag, feel free to tell me!

"You can cram it up your nook, Lashtu; I don't care if Her Imperious Condescension herself gives you clearance to boss me around!" You thump the desk with one fist, relishing in the way the seadweller in front of you flinches. "This division answers to _me_ , not some grubfaced brat swanning around in a cape, now _scram_."

His face is the color of bleached bone by now, and then turns slightly lavender as he bows his head and turns to leave. He's lucky you didn't snap his neck then and there.

Two weeks. You've still got two weeks to finish rounding up and processing all these fresh new heretics, and the audacity of Ampora's whelp, barely hatched out of his pupation slimes and only given his position because he's got an ancestor at Her Imperious Condescension's right bulgefrond, to demand you _hurry?_ _You?_

This shit takes motherfuckin' _time,_ and you ain't letting a pupa tell you how to do your job, 'specially when you've been doing it for hundreds of sweeps by now. You are the terror of every troll working in this department, the undisputed King of Crockercorp's landside acquisitions division. The nerve!

You sigh. All this talk of heretics got you all worked up. You're not letting a literal grub get under your skin, no, you're just a little tense.

Thankfully, you know  _just_ the little heretic to fix that for you. Sometimes you wonder what you'd do without your favorite little candyslut taking such good care of you. He's a new hire, but he's certainly taken to the job perfectly; you'd be in a fouler mood without him, and nobody wants  _that._

You push your seat a little away from your desk and reach down, feeling around for nubby little horns and curly hair.

"Wakey-wakey, bulgesocket." You hum as your fingers feel the back of his collar, dragging him up as he sputters and gags from the sudden awakening and the collar digging into his neck. He mumbles, mush-mouthed and sleepy from his nap, and looks up at you as you push your pants down to let out the long coil of your bulge.

Karkat's eyes have filled in with that bright, impossible red by now, just like his blasphemous ancestor working downstairs, but they look at you with nothing like that motherfucker's pitch-stained hatred. He looks at you as befitting your station, wide with lust and fear and respect, and it gets you hot under the collar every fucking time.

You're not sure if it's an act or if he's like that to everyone in this department. The earnest look really works for him, though, and it _definitely_ works for you.

You can see the little puddle of nook fluid beneath him, the flush on his tired face and the bright red stain of his bulge against his belly. He's still coming off the chucklevoodoos, you think, from when you'd fucked him earlier this evening; it's almost too bad, but it comes with its own perks, like keeping him too docile to cuss you out while you're in a bad mood.

"Sleep well?" You ask. He mumbles something to himself, nothing important. You've pretty much assigned his whole evening shift down there, after all; he's getting more rest than he would if you let him do his rounds downstairs. Your fingers curl over one horn and he purrs against your touch. "I need tending to. Make it good and I'll give you a treat later, when I let you out from under there." 

"Yes, sir," The words slur together in a way that makes you _ache_.  You slap him in the face with the underside of your bulge just to grin down at the way he shivers with his whole body, drinking in the way he moans against your skin, slutty and openmouthed and perfect. His own bulge licking at his thighs, but it only makes you want more. You stick a foot under him, nudging his stuffed nook with the toe of your shoe; you can feel how warm he is even through the leather, and you can  _hear_ how wet he is when the dildo you've put up there shifts with the movement.

"You want a treat, don't you?" You purr, stroking your bulge slowly in front of his face. "You wanna bounce on this fat fucking bulge like your life depends on it?"

"Yes, sir." He says it a little more clearly this time, sucking wetly along the side of your bulge as he grinds against your shoe. "I- I want it, I'll be the best fucking pail you've ever had, just let me- "

"Shhh." You grab him by the hair and stuff his mouth full of the blunt tip of your bulge, biting your lip when he grunts in discomfort before remembering to open his mouth all the way. Doesn't matter that he's still got a little sass left when he isn't hopped up on sex drugs. The look on his pretty face as he struggles to take your bulge makes it all worth it.

"You know what to do." You grin as you pull your foot away from his nook and see him try to hump against your shoe before he can't reach, and then you lean back in your seat, sighing as you feel his warm lips and hot little tongue, trying to get the whole thing out of your sheathe so he can really get to work. Little motherfucker is _talented_ at this, tongue teasing at the membrane between nook and bulge in a way that would make a lesser troll _writhe._

You, though, it just gives you something pleasant to distract yourself with as someone comes in through the door again. You've been at this job long enough that you manage not to roll your eyes from either the pleasure or the interruption, but that doesn't actually make it very easy.

Luckily your groan of lust is easy to interpret as one of frustration, judging by the way the seadweller- same one as earlier, fidgety as ever- hides behind his clipboard. It doesn't actually matter if he realizes you're getting a blowjob under the desk or not, but you like to watch him squirm.

"Um- I-"

"Out with it." You grumble, keeping your hands on the desk itself and, as subtly as you can, spreading your legs a little wider. Karkat chokes under the desk as your bulge thrusts down his throat, forcing its way past his tonsils with a soft _gluk!_ and a shiver you can feel all the way down to your nook. _Fuck_ , you can feel him struggling not to cough down there, his gullet twitching around the heavy length of your meat, drool dripping down the underside. How long until he actually has to beg for mercy?

"I- um- I left my pen, and-" The seadweller gulps, and you time the sound with an outthrust just long enough for Karkat to cough and get a gulp of air before you're plugging him up again. "Mister Ampora- he wanted to speak with you. Personally, that is. Should I..."

Oh, now that's just delightful. Karkat whimpers around your bulge, and you gesture for the seadweller to leave while in the same motion you shove Karkat's head all the way down into your lap. His mouth is stretched tight around the base of your bulge, and his tongue is still trying to push its way past his strained lips to tease your nook; this little slut is _gifted_ at this.

"Um, should I just- can I get my-" You almost feel sorry for the simpering little thing. Why did this one have to be an assistant? Even with violet blood, Crockercorp's gonna eat him alive. You grunt, looking down your nose and baring your teeth. He squeaks.

Cute. Maybe you'll have him re-assigned as a bulge-polisher and make Karkat _really_ work to stay your favorite. But you doubt anyone's taking his place any time soon.

"You're still here? Yeah, tell Ampora I can come in at around four, I've got other thing to attend to in the meantime." Like the slut kneeling between your legs and whimpering for air. Actually, that must be what this idiot noticed. You glance down and Karkat's eyes are rolled halfway up in their sockets, and he makes the sexiest little slurping, gagging noises while your bulge keeps trying to push deeper into his throat. 

There's no deeper to go, of course, but you're still amazed he got all that down. Karkat's cheeks are puffed with how much of you is stuffed into his jaw and how little air he's getting. The seadweller blushes darkly, taking a hesitant step forward, and you growl.

"Get the fuck out."

He gets the message and practically trips over his own feet on the way out. Karkat gulps again, his cheeks burning bright red, eyes pleading up at you. You grin.

"'s not polite to talk with your mouth full." You murmur, grabbing him by the back of the neck and yanking him off your bulge. Watching the long coil of it sliding out of his mouth is a thing of beauty, his lips dragging against the gleaming skin, strings of drool and bulgeslime dripping off the length. He coughs, red in the face, eyes watery with tears. His carefully-applied makeup is a mess, lashes stuck together and eyeliner running down his cheeks.

Beautiful.

You kick back your chair and delight in hearing him yelp as you pull him forward with you, but you keep your hand on his head and push him down against your bulge again, moaning at the warmth. You could just use him like this, if you wanted; you could just grind yourself to a mediocre finish on his pretty face, and send him back out to the rest of the office covered in your slurry. It's your right, his duty, and most importantly of all, sexy as fuck.

It's sexier when you make him work for it, though, and less effort on your part besides. He doesn't even need to be told; he opens his mouth and sucks at the tip of your bulge again, hot little hands furiously stroking the length. It's enough that trying to hold back makes your toes curl, makes you clench your teeth and groan, and between breathless slurping and his soft, needy moans, you find it in you to laugh.

A chuckle at first, and then a louder, more sincere honk of pure mirth. You push him down again, choking him as you thrust your hips up _hard._

"You got somewhere to be, li'l motherfucker?" You sneer, as he sputters for air around your bulge. "No you fucking don't, and if you make me cum earlier than I want to I'm gonna put you on display in the cafeteria. You wanna be my li'l bulgewarmer? Wanna sit on this fat fucking cock like a motherfuckin' _pet?_ "

You keep thrusting between every word, sweat working up on your brow. It's going to ruin your greasepaint if you're not careful, ruin it like you ruined Karkat's outfit and hair and heretically-red lipstick; you growl as you feel yourself working up to that peak anyway, as if he's sucking it out of you even though he's just trying to breathe.

"Gughk- mmph-!" You hear a messy slurp as you pull out, and you honk again, this time in surprise, as he reaches into your pants and rubs his warm, spit-slick fingers into the thick folds of your nook.

"You're too small to get me off like that, pupa. Hah!" It's good, though; good enough that it's nearly got you there; you grind your hips up against his face and focus on the heat and wetness of him, his teary eyes and sweet little noises. You'll make him ride you later, you'll make him _scream_ for you, you'll make sure that heretic two stories down hears how you're making his descendant sing your praises.

His eyes roll up when your bulge curls against his tonsils. One hand is furiously rubbing his own bulge, the other thrusting the dildo in his sopping nook. You slow down just enough to watch him, pulled out just far enough to give him a couple gulps of air. His nostrils flare and you _slam_ back into his mouth, cutting him off.

Oh, and that scream is _delicious_. Distantly, you hear fluid splattering the floor between his thighs; you feel him trembling in your hands, shivering all the way to his horns. _Fuck_ that does it for you.

"Open wide, pupa," You breathe, grinding into him just a little more until the metaphorical dam finally breaks and you cum.

You fill him like a pail. Visibly, even; you see his gut swelling with it, just a bit as you force him to gulp you down, and when you pull out he's drooling pale, sticky purple. The last few spurts land between his horns, dribbling down his weary face and mingling with his spit and snot and makeup. He keeps his mouth open as you aim the last few shots there, looking up at you with slurry dripping off the tip of his nose.

You slump in your seat, breathing hard. He's sucked pretty much every ounce of geneslime and fury out of you for the moment. It takes at least a minute of afterglow before you can regard him again, and you take another minute of just watching him catch his breath before nudging him into looking at you.

"What do we say?" You murmur, grinning lopsidedly at him.

"Thank you, sir." He purrs, voice hoarse from the thorough abuse his throat had just taken. He can barely focus his eyes on you, too blissed out from his orgasm probably. He's still shaking a little. He smiles anyway. "I enjoyed that very much, sir."

"Good bucket. You'll get your treat when you wake up again." And with that, you pull yourself back towards your desk and ring up your secretary. "Tell someone I'll need my office cleaned up and tell Ampora I'll be meeting him in his office at four, pretty sure that idiot Lashtu is too busy yanking his bulge to the memory of mine to do anything important right now."

You cut the line before he can give you any response; you're in too good a mood to have it ruined so soon by whatever else is going on in this division right now. If it's important, they'll call you. 

Below your desk, Karkat is falling back asleep, and you should probably tuck your bulge back into your pants while it calms down and slides back into your sheathe. You wonder what Karkat will think when he wakes up in a puddle of your combined cum, long after you've gone to meet Ampora and maybe even while he's being cleaned up. The thought makes you smirk, cruelly. You lick your lips.

He really is a good bucket when he gets the right incentive.


End file.
